


How to Manage a "Trois"

by saijanbulma



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Character Analysis, Established Relationship, F/F, Relationship Discussions, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 10:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20655620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saijanbulma/pseuds/saijanbulma
Summary: Bulma has a bright idea. It's a wonderful idea, a fantastic idea, in fact it's probably the best idea anyone ever had. The stage is set, the lingerie is perfect and her evening of debauchery is ready to go - what could go wrong?Cue Vegeta leaving Capsule Corp with no word about a return, tense conversations and difficult self-realisations between two deeply flawed and terminally proud individuals. How far can a relationship get on love without understanding?





	How to Manage a "Trois"

She really was beautiful, Bulma thought to herself as her companion paced the room nervously. Not too tall, the young woman was slim, toned and evenly tanned. Her face was very pretty and expressive, her large dark eyes lending her a look of wonderment. She had plump, well shaped lips that were often slightly open when she was preoccupied in thought, and then she would occasionally flash her perfectly white teeth in a small, excited smile. Her figure was good too, probably as good as her own, and she had a way of walking and sway to her hips that Bulma  _ knew _ was going to drive him crazy.

She lay on her own bed, feeling maybe like she ought to be more self-conscious in her raiment, but the extravagantly expensive silk slip with its artisan lace and the hand embroidered detailing felt too natural for shame. Her own legs, creamy white and smooth, were folded on the bed. She admired her pedicure, reflecting on the amount of time she'd spent at the beautician that afternoon, having "the full works" as she'd put it. 

Her companion was also fabulously dressed, in a barely see-through babydoll that showed just enough to make Bulma curious about what else was underneath it. Her admiration was of an aesthetic nature though, rather than sexual, and that was fine. While it was interesting to test her own sexuality, that wasn't why she'd convinced Tess come tonight. 

Tess had worked for Capsule Corp for a couple of years, a very efficient and hardworking PA who Bulma had every reason to notice on her own merit, but it wasn't her work ethic that had caught Bulma's attention. It had been entirely by accident, and had sparked a flurry of new ideas in Bulma's ever-active mind. 

She'd been speaking to Tess, asking her to rework a schedule, when the usually sharply efficient woman lost her focus entirely. Bulma had looked up, annoyed and ready to berate her assistant for trailing off mid-sentence, when Tess's object caught her eye. 

Her husband, the irascible Prince Vegeta, had turned a corner with their young son and was walking towards them. The latter was babbling away at him and the Prince, though clearly under duress, was listening stoically. 

Bulma had glanced back at her assistant, and noted in quick succession her dilated eye, flushed cheeks, hands clenching her tablet that little bit too tightly. Further examination suggested the woman's breathing had quickened and Bulma was certain she saw her swallowing hard. 

For his part Vegeta didn't seem to see Tess at all. He nodded to his wife as he passed, having learned not to bother her while she was working. Bulma blew him a kiss, and he glared at her, blushing furiously.

"And… Uh, the four o'clock, oh, gosh where was I?" Tess babbled, the spell broken as he passed them and turned a corner. He’d smelled particularly good that day. 

Bulma had been kinder to her after that, once she'd smacked down an initial jealous urge of course. A woman of her calibre had no need of a petty emotional response like that, especially one with a husband as devoted as Vegeta was, but it was a minor struggle. She observed her PA closely whenever Vegeta was present, and collected all the evidence she needed to prove - to herself at least - that Vegeta had a similar effect on the young woman as he did on his wife. 

She'd chuckled to herself thinking about that, superior in her ability to at least hide her arousal. 

Later she'd probed her husband, searching for some indication that he might have noticed Tess in some way. She laughed inwardly at how embarrassed and shocked he'd be to find out that not only would he not be in trouble for any attraction to her PA, but that he'd be amply rewarded. She'd gained from him an admission that he was aware of "that short, nervous woman" and she was thrilled to discover that he approved of her quiet competency and respectful manners. She didn't dare to tell him that the source of those manners was not respect but an embarrassing degree of unauthorised lust, as this was high praise from him and evidence enough to convince her that her increasingly frequent daydream could become a reality. 

The only problem had been the uncomfortable power disparity; her being an employee made her off limits in that regard. If Bulma wasn't careful she'd have a class action law suit on her hands for sexual harassment, and the papers would have a field day with that, so she reluctantly shelved the idea. 

Three months later Tess handed in her notice, having been offered a lucrative position with a non-competitor. She was so shy, and so apologetic, unaware that her employer was accepting her resignation with secret glee. As much as she would be missed, Bulma was now able to revisit her plans. 

Tess was surprised with a leaving party, and a lavish one at that. Champagne would have looked cheap and out of place at that party. Bulma kept the drink flowing generously, ensuring plenty made its way to the lady of honour, and when the time was right, she made her move. 

"I've noticed you look at my husband a lot," she said smilingly, when they happened to have a quiet moment. 

"What? No, Ms Briefs, I don't- what are you implying-?" 

"Relax," she laughed in reply, "it's fine, really. I just wanted to know what you think of him." 

"Mr Vegeta never really came into my work here," she responded carefully. 

"Maybe I should rephrase…" Bulma mused, "what I'm getting at is… Well, he and I are looking to branch out a bit, maritally speaking, and now that you're leaving us, I thought I would float the idea past you." 

"Ms Briefs, this is highly inappropriate," she blushed furiously. 

"Well you’re right of course, but you look me in the eye and tell me you've never thought about him that way?" 

She couldn't. 

"That's what I thought," Bulma sipped her cocktail. "Listen Tess, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable with this, and I apologise if that's what I've done. If you'd rather I hadn’t brought this up then I'll never mention it again-" 

"Well, wait a moment…"

And that was all it took. After a little more wine and with gentle coaxing from Bulma the young woman confessed to a severe physical attraction to Bulma’s husband, and admitted that her weakness had made her feel embarrassed and ashamed at work.

“I hope that’s not why you’re leaving us,” Bulma frowned.

“No, ma’am, the opportunity just happened to come up and it was such a good offer-”

“Please, Tess. I think under the circumstances you can call me Bulma from now on.”

A fortnight had passed since then, and Tess had transitioned to her new company. All the while she’d kept in contact with her previous employer as they made their little plan together. Bulma had been the architect of the majority of it, having the greatest knowledge of Vegeta’s preferences. Even the night dress that Tess was wearing so beautifully had been chosen and purchased by Bulma. She experienced a sudden if slight sensation of unease as it occurred to her that she was dressing this human woman up like some sort of doll to tempt her husband, but she quelled it as quickly; she was Bulma Briefs, all of her ideas were good ideas and everyone was going to come out of this situation  _ very _ happy indeed.

It wasn’t that she was unhappy with her sex life, far from it in fact. Vegeta continued to be a passionate and considerate lover, and when they made love it was with warmth and a deep understanding of each other’s bodies. But that was just it, that was the problem; there was no  _ adventure _ anymore. Bulma felt like there was nothing more to discover about sex with her husband, and while it was always good, and always had excellent results, they were always the  _ same _ results. She wasn’t exactly bored, but she was itching to explore something new. This, she theorised, had to answer the problem.

“Bulma, are you sure this fits alright?” Tess asked her, snapping her out of her reverie. “Is it too revealing?”

“It’s lingerie, it’s not meant to be puritanical,” she chuckled, “but yes, I think it fits you perfectly and no, it’s not too revealing.”

“Sure, you’re right,” she said unconvincingly, looking at herself in the full length mirror. “I just, hmm, can’t help wondering what I’d say to myself if I met past-me.”

“How so?”

“I’m worried that what I’m doing is a little…”

“Empowering? Sexually liberating? Deliciously decadent?”

“...Slutty.”

“Young lady we do not use that word in this house,” Bulma said gently, smiling as she raised herself up from the bed. “You are a free agent, a consenting adult among other consenting adults, hurting no-one and pursuing your own pleasure in a safe and controlled environment. In fact, compared to the average casual hook-up I’d say you are positively saintly.”

“You think?”

“Of course. You’re here to get something you want, something you couldn’t have otherwise, in a way that mutually benefits all parties involved.”

“Oh dear, you’ve got your corporate voice on,” she giggled, “I’m not a shareholder, you know.”

“Ha, my apologies. Sometimes it’s hard to switch off. But honestly, calm your nerves, you’re here for a bit of fun and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You’re right, you’re always right,” she sighed, smiling nervously. “Do you really think he’s going to like me?”

“Look at you,” Bulma turned her to face the mirror, standing slightly behind with her hand on the young woman’s waist. “He’d have to be blind not to.”

There was a familiar step in the hallway. Bulma’s eyes snapped to the door.

“Quick! Positions.”

They hurried to the bed, Bulma first and Tess leaning over her with her head in Bulma’s lap. They both made sure to angle themselves flatteringly.

It seemed to take forever for the door to open. Bulma had to admit to herself, now that the moment was here, her tummy was full to bursting with butterflies. She hadn’t been anxious during any of the preparation, only excited, but now with him so close to finding what she’d done for him she was fit to bursting with nebulous anxiety. She stroked Tess’s soft brown curls.

The door opened, and he strode in, his customarily taciturn demeanor replaced by the softer, calmer look he always wore when they were in private together. He looked up to greet her as he made it to the bedside and froze.

For a full two or three seconds he said absolutely nothing. She was convinced he didn’t even breathe. Then he blinked, and his eyebrows came together as a dark look descended on his fine features.

“What ...is this?” he asked finally, gesturing to the two women sharply.

“Don’t be rude, Vegeta,” Bulma trilled, falsely confident. She had a sudden sinking feeling that she had made some fatal misjudgements. “This is Tess, you know her.”

Tess sat up slowly , her heavy nut-brown curls cascading over her shoulders just as Bulma had planned, forming a very pretty picture indeed. She had a flash of cold anxiety as she realised that the tableau was having little to no effect on Vegeta. Or at least not the effect she had banked on.

“Why is she here? What - why are you dressed like that?” he demanded, anger and disgust writ clear on his face.

“Are you serious?” Bulma asked, her forced smile brittle now. “This is every man’s fantasy: two beautiful women waiting for  _ him  _ in his bed.”

“Apparently you need to know smarter men,” he sneered, gaining control of his feet and marching to their dresser. “Any man that desires two women in his bed ought to realise that leaves no room for him.”

“Vegeta, we have a guest and you’re not being very nice-”

“This our bedroom! It is not for entertaining ‘guests’!” he snapped furiously, ripping open a drawer and grabbing a small handful of garments. Bulma could see underwear, socks, an armour capsule. 

“Okay, you just need to calm down honey-”

“Bullshit,” he rejoined, folding the capsule in the underwear and stalking towards the door. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Vegeta, wait!” she stood to catch him but he was gone. He slammed the door behind him.

There was a sniffle from behind her and she spun on the spot to see that Tess had burst into silent tears.

“Oh no, sweety, no it’s okay.”

“I-I shouldn’t h-have c-come-” she burbled as Bulma tried to comfort her. “He d-doesn’t like m-me.”

“Oh darling, no that’s not it. He’s just being an asshole. You’re perfect. It’s not your fault.”

“I n-need to go h-home,” she said, struggling to her feet and covering herself with her arms.

Bulma looked at the door. It was obvious that Vegeta was planning to take off for at least the night, and he had a head start on her. If she had any hope of catching him and sorting out this mess then she needed to grab her dressing gown and go this second. She looked back at the distraught woman stood by her bed, and knew she had no real choice in the matter. Tess was here because of Bulma, and her wellbeing had to be her number one priority in this moment. She sighed.

“Absolutely. Let me help you get ready, I’ll take you home.”

* * *

Vegeta didn’t return that night, nor the next one. He didn’t take his phone, and as far as she could tell he hadn’t even raided the kitchen before leaving. She called everyone who he might have spoken to, but none of them had so much as seen him. She was beginning to worry.

“No, sorry honey, he hasn’t come here,” Chi-Chi informed her kindly. “Goku-sa does that sometimes too, they always come back. Don’t worry.”

“It’s different this time,” Bulma insisted, “we, uh, kind of had a fight.”

“You don’t say,” Chi-Chi said, in a tone of voice that suggested she was not in the least bit surprised.

“He was so mad,” Bulma told her. “He even took the tracking chips out of his armour, and those things were glued in there tight-”

“Wait, you put tracking chips in his  _ clothes? _ ” Chi-Chi asked incredulously.

“Well yeah, wouldn’t you?”

“No!” Chi-Chi exclaimed. “Bulma, I know I have a reputation for being a bit hard on him, but I  _ trust _ Goku-sa. We wouldn’t be married if I didn’t.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust him, Chi-Chi,” Bulma said defensively, “I just like to know where he is.”

“And how does he feel about you tagging him like a zoo animal?”

“Um, well up to now I kind of, uh, assumed he didn’t know,” she bit her lip uncomfortably, “but if he knew how to pull them out …"

“Bulma.”

“Come on, you know what he's like. What if he left the planet?”

“Well that’s none of my business,” Chi-Chi said, “but he will come back, they always do.”

“Okay," Bulma sighed heavily, "well thanks anyway. Take care."

She hung up the phone and returned to pacing the kitchen. He was probably camped out in the woods somewhere, keeping his ki low so that she couldn't get any of their warrior friends to search for his enemies. He was a competent hunter, and she knew from some of his scant conversation about his past that he'd had to live wild before. He could last forever out there if he wanted to. She sighed again and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Are you two still fighting, honey?" asked Bulma's mother, poking her head into the kitchen and startling her daughter. 

"Ugh, yes," she admitted reluctantly. 

"It's been a while since you've had one that lasted this long," Panchy remarked. She wandered into the kitchen and filled the kettle. "But then, back in the day, I remember when he would just shoot off for weeks when you had your little disagreements." 

"Yeah, he doesn't cope with adult conversations very well."

"I'm sure it'll all be okay," she said soothingly, lining up three mugs and filling them with cocoa powder. 

"What a time for Goku to be away at King Kai's. He could at least tell me where on the planet Vegeta is!" 

"Hm?" Panchy turned her pretty face to her daughter in surprise. "Oh sweety, he's upstairs in the shower. Didn't you know?" 

"What? No! How long has he been home?" 

"Oh I couldn't say. I just saw him going into the spare bathroom."

"He's avoiding me!" Bulma snarled, launching herself off the counter she'd been leaning on and heading for the door. 

"Wait a sec, sugar-pie," Panchy halted her, and handed her two cups of hot cocoa. "Take these with you."

Bulma didn't think her AWOL Prince deserved his cup, but she thanked her mother and took it anyway. 

* * *

Upon investigation she found the guest bathroom unoccupied, and evidence of recent usage apparent. She carried on down the hall, trying to determine which room he'd hidden in. There were plenty of options. She wondered why he didn't use one of the en suites instead, and came to the conclusion that he wanted her to know he was home. 

One of the doors was slightly ajar, and Bulma eyed it suspiciously. She toed it fully open. 

He was sitting on the bed, towel-drying his hair, wearing only a plain pair of lounge pants. His armour and battlesuit were neatly folded on the chair. If he'd noticed her enter he didn't acknowledge it. 

“Nice of you to let me know you were back,” she growled, quietly seething. 

“Why don’t you just put a collar on me next time?” he grunted in response, still not looking at her.

“Is this about the tracking chips?” she snapped, putting his cocoa on the dresser at the far end of the room.

“It’s about a lot of things.”

“Well excuse me for caring about my husband!” she stomped back to close the door behind her. “Would it have killed you to take your phone?”

“That would have defeated the object.”

“Which was?”

“None of your business.”

“Damn it, Vegeta! Are you going to talk to me or not?”

“You’re the one who barged in here,” he rejoined, standing to put away his towel and turning away from her pointedly, “I didn’t request your presence.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m some sort of servant-”

“And don’t treat me like I’m a fucking toy!” he interrupted, spinning on his heel with fury in his eyes.

“I don’t treat you like a toy,” she objected warmly.

“So what was the other night, huh?”

“That was you being an ass, that’s what that was,” she asserted, narrowing her eyes at him.

“How is any of this  _ my _ fault?!”

“You were rude to that poor girl!” Bulma slammed down her own untouched cocoa. “I had to take her home and she was in tears the whole way. She’s got massive self-image issues from this!”

“That’s your fault!” Vegeta yelled, gesticulating sharply in rage and frustration. “I didn’t put her there, you did! What in God’s name were you expecting to happen?!”

“I expected you to be grateful!” she retorted, hands on hips in the face of Vegeta’s aggressive posture. “Any other man would kill for an evening like the one I had planned for you.”

“But you didn’t marry any of those other men, did you?” he pointed out through gritted teeth. “Although I’m beginning to wonder if you regret that choice now.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why else would you try to fuck one of your employees?”

“She’s not technically my employee anymore-”

“It’s obvious,” he growled, running his hands through his hair in pain and frustration, “if you want out of this marriage so badly you should have just said instead of trying to find loopholes!”

“Vegeta, that is not what’s happening here at all,” Bulma argued, shifting uncomfortably. “I mean, how do you even reach a conclusion like that? That’s insane-”

“You made me vow, in front of a room of people, to take you  _ and only you  _ as my wife.”

“...There were six people there, max,” she murmured in objection, but he ignored her.

“I hated every moment of that ceremony, but I did it for you. Because you wanted it. Because even though it was humiliating to have to say those things out loud in public I still  _ meant them.  _ But apparently that means nothing to you.”

“You know what?” she rallied, bristling. “You are an ungrateful shitlord. I always wanted a big wedding, lots of attendees, a big ceremony, a singer and people crying at how beautiful I was, but I knew you would  _ despise  _ that. That ceremony that you seem to think was so excessive was pared down to the barest of legal essentials, and cut as short as possible, all to accommodate your emotional fragility! I put a lot of effort into making that ceremony bearable to you, but I guess  _ that _ means nothing, too!”

Vegeta paused, flustered.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she continued. “A threesome is a normal thing that married people do, and calling our whole marriage into question just because you have some sexual hang-ups is insane!”

“There, you’re doing it again!” he snapped, stalking around the room in frustration. It occurred to Bulma that his natural response to such stressful stimuli would be physical violence, the battlefield being his main means of self-expression, and for a moment she wondered if it was an effort for him to fight that instinct right now. “I disagree with you, therefore I’m insane. I’m angry with something you did, and so I’m ungrateful. The problem is always me, and  _ never _ you.”

“Well maybe if you would just be rational-”

“And where do you get off telling me I have sexual hang-ups? You sprung a half naked woman on me with no warning, no context, and you expected me to be happy about it?”

“Yes! She’s gorgeous!”

“Then you go fuck her, by all means, but leave me out of it!”

“That’s not what I - damn it Vegeta, I wanted to try something new with  _ you. _ ”

“Well why didn’t you just - fucking - ask me?”

“It…” she faltered, “it was meant to be a surprise.”

“And did it ever occur to you how demeaning it felt to walk into that room - our room - and realise I was being dangled like a piece of meat to one of your hungry friends?”

“...I mean, I worried I might’ve been doing that to  _ her _ a little, but I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“I thought you’d be a little resistant at first, and then…”

“Then?”

“We would …” Bulma blushed furiously, “seduce you.”

There was silence between them as their mutual fury died down into simmering embarrassment. Vegeta was giving Bulma a level stare, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“You had a whole thing in your head, didn’t you?” he asked her bluntly. “You had this story of how it would all play out.”

“I guess, kind of,” she crossed her arms defensively.

“You tried to tell me about that once, you called it something else. A story you tell in your own head for self-gratification-”

“A fantasy,” she supplied, further embarrassed by his clinical language, “or day-dream. But in this case ...yeah, a fantasy.”

“You know what upsets me most right now?” he asked her plainly.

She looked up in surprise, meeting his steady, penetrating eyes.

“It’s that you crafted this whole narrative in your mind, and you misjudged my reaction so spectacularly,” he leaned back on the far wall, his arms also crossed. “How could you ever think I would be okay with something like that?”

“Most men-”

“Stop that,” he said, firmly but calmly. “I’m not most men. You wouldn’t marry most men, so don’t compare me to them, or judge me by their low standards.”

“I honestly thought you’d enjoy it,” she protested, “I thought that this whole tough guy prude thing was just a front, that all you needed was a little encouragement to let out your inner deviant.”

“So you admit that what you attempted was deviant, and therefore not normal?” he accused, again remaining calm.

“No, you douche!” she snapped, but without the fire. “A threesome is boring, middle-aged couples sex 1.01. I thought that  _ maybe _ it would lead to ...other things.”

“Why?”

“Because you’d maybe loosen up a bit-”

“No, I mean why do you want that?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but then closed it again. How could she respond to that? She had to tell him the truth, of course, but she couldn’t think of a way to frame it that wouldn’t wound him. She bit her lip.

“Are you bored of me?”

He said it smoothly, coolly even, but she could see the set of his jaw, the rigidity of his frame, even the sharp observation in his eyes as he searched her face for answers, all signs of his deep discomfort. Her resistance crumbled.

“No, never, I love you,” she blurted, “I’m just ...I’m getting older and there are so many things I haven’t tried yet. I want experiences, I want new things. There’s no ...ugh, how do I say this ...there’s nothing to discover anymore.”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow and lifted his perfect chin slightly, but said nothing.

“You know my body so well, you know exactly where to go and what to do and that’s great, but then it becomes routine and, well, it’s like my body is satisfied but my soul is restless. Does that make sense?”

“I ...don’t know.”

“I only want to be with you, that’s forever and always true,” she added quickly, “I brought Tessa because I thought you’d like her, not for me.”

“Do you see the double standard in your statement, though? You say you want only me, and yet you were actively encouraging  _ me  _ to engage in extra marital coitus.”

“I really wish my mom hadn’t given you that religious sex guide.”

“The glossary was helpful.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“Damn it, stop obfuscating,” he narrowed his eyes again, “the point is that as usual you just got an idea in your head, thought it would be fun  _ for you _ and so then went ahead crafting a scenario where you could justify it to everyone you wanted to involve.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

"Of course you did. It's like that time you tried to put that thing up my-" 

"I already apologised for that."

"I didn't want an apology, I wanted you to ASK FIRST."

“But what’s the point of asking you?” she declared, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Any time I try to talk to you about sex you just clam up and go all weird!”

“That’s not  _ …entirely _ true…”

“It is and you  _ damned well _ know it!” she countered. “Can you remember one time that I’ve brought up marital intimacy and you haven’t shut the conversation down?”

“Well what do you want me to do about it?” he blustered, looking away from her, embarrassed.

“Talk to me!” she retorted, hands on hips. “Don’t just piss off to the wilderness when things get hard!”

“So my choice is to leave of my own accord, or tell you my honest thoughts and be kicked out instead?”

“What sort of conclusion is that?!” Bulma snapped. “Why would I kick you out?”

“Because you take criticism worse than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“That is not true! How dare you even say that!”

He said nothing, but his withering glare and raised eyebrow made her pause.

“Alright,” she said slowly, “maybe I’m a little sensitive to criticism, and maybe that discourages you from talking about hard subjects, and  _ maybe _ I can do better with that, but how can I if you don’t even try to talk to me?”

“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?” he muttered.

“So you wanna do this right now?”

“I didn’t say that,” he said quickly, “don’t get any ideas-”

“I’ll be right back, I need to get some wi-” Bulma turned to open the door and let out a little ‘ooh!’ of surprise as her mother appeared in the doorway. She held out a bottle and two glasses to her daughter.

“I came to get your mugs,” she smiled sweetly. The pair glanced guiltily at the full mugs going cold on the dresser. She smiled knowingly. “Oh don’t worry, it’s too warm for cocoa. That’s why I brought the Chateau instead.”

Bulma glanced at the bottle in her hand: decent vintage, full bodied, pairs well with difficult relationship conversations and sexual dysfunction, she thought to herself with a twisted smile.

“Thanks mom.”

“I’ll be going now,” she trilled, taking the mugs, “glad you’re home, Vegeta.”

“Night mom.”

The door shut behind her, and the pair were alone with their embarrassment.

“I wouldn’t want to cross that woman,” Vegeta muttered, adding when his wife looked at him quizzically, “she’s much smarter than she lets on.”

“You should’ve drunk your cocoa, then,” she pointed out, putting down the glasses and gripping the cork. She twisted it easily; her mother had pre-loosened it. “Are you having a glass? I know you don’t drink much, but you don’t want to offend her twice, do you?”

He shrugged, so she poured him a shallow glass.

“What is it?”

“Very nice wine,” she informed him, then checking the label, “very  _ expensive _ nice wine. Mom really wants us to patch it up I guess.”

He took the glass, sipped suspiciously, but made no comment. She followed suit.

“Are you still mad?” Bulma asked him, swilling the glass the aerate the wine.

“I dunno,” he shrugged passive aggressively, “are you?”

“Not really.”

“I suppose I’m less furious than I was,” he conceded. He was trying to swill his own glass surreptitiously. She smiled, but said nothing.

“So, shall we go from the start?” she asked him.

“Of what?”

“Of this episode: from you storming out.”

“You’ll find that the start of this ‘episode’ was when you invited a strange woman into our bed without my consent.”

Bulma frowned and took a draught of wine.

“I’m willing to attempt to communicate with you but not if you frame this argument as the sole result of my actions,” he continued. “My part in this has been entirely in response to your actions.”

“Alright,” she said finally, wishing the alcohol would seep in a little quicker, “I see your point, but that’s a slippery slope, Vegeta. We could spend all evening saying ‘well I only did  _ this _ because you did  _ this _ ’ repeat ad infinitum.”

“That’s a cop out and you know it.”

“Well I’m trying to be clear on the exact parametres of our discourse-”

“How do you think you made me feel when you tried to offer me to that woman?”

Bulma paused, glass halfway to her lips, but Vegeta simply glared at her.

“I ...what?” she searched his face for answers, but none were forthcoming. “I mean, just now you said it was demeaning, and I guess you were pretty angry. Angry and insulted seem pretty on-brand for you.”

“Is there no other emotion you might associate with how I reacted?”

“You were confused too I suppose, that always makes you mad.”

“Bulma,” for a moment he looked like he was going to raise his voice again but he reined himself in with a sigh, “I was hurt.”

She said nothing, biting her lip as her tummy twisted up uncomfortably.

“Our bedroom is probably the only place in which I’ve ever felt comfortable enough to let down my guard. Everywhere else there’s the chance someone will see, or hear, and I’ll feel foolish or unsafe, but in that room I know it’s only ever you and me. Do you know how important that is to me?”

“I ...never really thought about it.”

“Of course not, because you have barely any fear of anything. So you just do and say whatever you feel like whenever it occurs to you, which is all very well but I can’t do that. Ever action I take has to be measured, every word considered, because I’ve spent my whole life training to be that way. I cannot show weakness, it’s against my nature, and I can’t simply switch that off now just because a woman who is insane enough to willingly marry someone like me says it’s okay now. It’s not okay, it’ll never be okay. And I thought I’d found one place where I was safe enough to show you the things that press on my goddamn heart but that’s ruined now. I trusted you and I trusted that space but that trust is broken and now I don’t know what to expect anymore.

“Vegeta…”

“What we do in that room means more to me than simple gratification,” he said, looking away from her and fixing his eyes on the carpet. His jaw was set, and from his body language all over she could see the effort it was costing him to get these words out. “I can’t talk about things the way you do, or express myself the way I would sometimes wish, but when I’m with you, physically, that’s an expression of what I feel for you, and what I’ve admitted to myself. I’ve always worried that if I don’t make those emotions known to you then you would eventually look elsewhere, and then to find  _ her _ in my bed, like that ...it seemed like my worst fears confirmed.

“But then it turned out to be worse than that. You weren’t leaving me, but you were proving that I had been unsuccessful in expressing to you how I felt about the sanctity of our intimacy. It was immediately apparent that what was to me a physical affirmation of the vows we made to each other was to you no more than an evening’s diversion. How could I face you after that with the knowledge that it was  _ I _ that had been the weak, emotional fool and that  _ you _ were the cool detached one?

“I never want to bed any woman but you, but somehow I hadn’t even managed to make you aware of  _ that, _ and I felt like I had failed as a husband, and that you were mocking me for it. I’ve  _ always _ worried that I wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you, in so many ways, and to have those insecurities so callously confirmed in such an unexpected manner was unbearable. I think secretly I’ve believed for a few years now that I care more about you than you do about me, and I felt that all come to the surface when I realised that it didn’t even occur to you to seek my consent.

“And yes, maybe you wanted to talk to me about this shit, and maybe I haven’t been receptive about that, but I don’t know how to talk about intimacy. I’ve lived my entire life being taught by every authority figure to avoid or exploit intimacy as a weakness, only then to discover it with you ...I’ve spent our whole marriage learning how to please you, and it was a blow, Bulma, to find that my study was inadequate. I don’t know a lot about bedroom things, and you know I’d rather eat myself than ask another person for advice in that arena, but stuff like this just reminds me how much more you know than I do. I hate feeling inadequate but it’s there every day, every time you make an offhand comment or little passive aggressive swipe at me, I feel like I’m back on Namek, fighting Freeza, and nothing I throw at him lands, but every hit in my direction feels like it’s going to kill me.”

“You said a minute ago that I don’t fear anything,” she pointed out quietly, “but you’re wrong. I’m afraid of lots of stuff, like getting old or ugly, but one of the things I fear most is losing you. I worry everyday that you’ll leave again and it’ll be the last time I ever see you.”

“Is that why you put tracking chips in my clothes?”

“It is …” she rubbed her face, “and from the general reaction of you and everyone who’s found out about them I think that may have been a misjudgement.”

“Indeed.”

“But our bedroom, I never knew you felt that way…” she whispered.

“Obviously, else you would never have-”

“No, I get it, you’re right,” she said firmly, sighing deeply. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you before trying to plan something so private.”

“But as you’ve already pointed out, I would have just shut that conversation down.”

“I believe that’s true, but maybe ...maybe there are other ways?”

Vegeta said nothing, his cheeks glowed pink.

“If making love to me is a purest expression of your feelings for me, would it ruin that for you if we tried new ways of making love?”

“I’m  _ not _ having a threesome.”

“No, you’re right, no other players. We don’t need them anyway.”

“What are you suggesting?” he growled, deeply embarrassed.

“Well if sitting and talking about this is going to force your pride to choke you out how about we first think about how we talk, hmm?” she fished in her jacket pocket and produced Vegeta’s phone, a hardy little device of her own design. “I’ll text you. I’ll tell you what I’m thinking of and you can respond with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

He took the phone nervously, as if it already contained licentious instruction.

“I have only two requests,”

He looked up expectantly, and she continued.

“The first is that you answer me,” she crossed her arms, blushing herself, “the second is that you don’t kink shame me.”

“I don’t know what kink shaming is.”

“I figured, I’ll send you the wiki page - oh! And one more request.”

“I’m listening.”

“Please don’t run away like that again,” she stepped towards him, putting her hands on his forearms. “I was scared.”

“Alright,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably, “I’m ...sorry for scaring you.”

“Right, how about we-”

“Wait, there’s one thing.”

“Go on.”

“When you give me these ...thoughts of yours,” he blushed furiously, “don’t assume I’ll know what you mean.”

“I will be very specific.”

“Good.”

“So,” she drained her glass, noting that Vegeta’s was also empty, “are you coming to bed?”

“No,” he stood up and handed his glass to her. Her expression must have given him a moment’s inquietude however because he added, “I’m just going for a walk. I’ll be back tonight.”

“Alright, whatever you need. Will you kiss me?”

He leaned in to peck her cheek, but he lingered, and she turned her face to touch her lips to his. Her free hand snaked up his arm to his neck, caressing his jaw.

“I’m sorry, Vegeta. I love you. I never meant to make you feel like that.”

He mumbled something, strangled with embarrassment, and she knew he’d reached his limit.

“Alright, go clear your head, do what you need to do.”

He allowed her one more kiss, and then moved to leave the room.

“Wait!” Bulma stopped him, and he turned in surprise. “Take this.”

She held out his phone, which he had left on the bed.

“Does it have a tracking chip?” 

She paused, and clicked the phone out of its protective case, which she threw in the bin.

“No,” she told him glibly.

“Are there any more?”

“I think that’s all of them,” she assured him, “and there won’t be anymore.”

“Okay,” he sniffed, “thanks.”

She smiled, he nodded, and then he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Just so you know, there is a sequel to this that I've put up on Twitter but not sure about putting it on AO3 yet because it's kind of ...'self-indulgent'. Link is below if you want to have a look.
> 
> https://twitter.com/BulmaSaijan/status/1171706519248916480


End file.
